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OF 



EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT 



A DISCOUKSE 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE LITERARY SOCIETIES 



UNIVEESITY OF MICHIGAN, 

ON 

MONDAY EVENING, JUNE 25, 1855. 
BY 

HENEY PrTAPPAN, D.D., LL.D., 

CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY. 



ANN" ARBOR: 

2. B. POND, PRINTER, ARGUS OFFICE. 

1855, 



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l<2 .7 YORK PUBL. LIB)R» 



A DISCOURSE. 



GrENTLEMEiSr — MeMBEKS OF THE LiTEKAEY SOCIETIES OF THE 

University of Michigan : 

Society ! What meaning in that one word ! Society — 
does it not speak of everything dear and valnaljle to man ! 

The garden of Eden was phinted by the hand of God — 
the flowers sprang up at the divine touch — the streams flowed 
along in melody — the heavens poured down their light — the 
earth was glad in beant}^ and abundance^ — and man stood 
there, their soJe possessor. Heaven and earth Avere his, and 
yet his existence was not complete. There was stirring witliin 
him an indefinable longing—a mysterious expectation of 
another gift. ISTature spoke within him — a true, a lioly na- 
ture — spoke in a feeling, in a sentiment, for whicli he had not 
yet framed the words. The divine voice gave the utterance, 
''It is nut good for man to be alone;" — and when man was 
no longer alone, then in realizing the idea of society, he 
found the want of his being supplied. In sweet, domestic 
charities society began: and here is the foundation of all 
society: father, mother, sister, brother,-^here was woven the 
first circle of human sympathy; — and this primal necessity 
has led on the development of humanity into communities 
and nations, and every form of association which ap})ears in 
the history, and marks the progress of tlie race. 

Isolated being is isolated ideas, and isolated ideas must 
prove unproductive. Mind no less than matter finds increase 
in reciprocal duality. The solitary being may commune M'itb; 



the heavens and the earth, and ideas "within find tlieir em- 
bodyment without; but when it is found, it must be spoken 
out in a description — a science — or an emotion. But it can- 
not be uttered to the empty air — there must be a hearing 
ear — an understanding mind — a living heart, to which to 
communicate, and from which to gain a response. 

To think without speaking, would seem an impossibility; 
to speak to ourself alone, an absurdity. To gain knowledge 
to rest forever with ourself, would be like making one's bed 
forever on a golden rock. To plan and propose any imj^rove- 
ment by art and industry to be shared by no one, would be 
action without an end — the building of ships without com- 
merce, and cities without inhabitants, the sowing of fields 
never to be reaped, the moulding of beautiful forms with 
none to admire them, the singing of epics and no hearts to 
be moved upon. And thought itself would claim the critical 
judgment, the aid, and inspiration of other thought; and the 
hand of industry seek to link itself with the strength and 
skill of some other hand. 

Is not society then all and in all to us? Do we not live 
by society — think, labor, imj^rove and enjoy by society? To 
l^e alone is next to negation of being: to be associated is the 
life, power and completeness of being. 

Inanimate matter congregates by resistless afiinities; or- 
ganic forms grow in companies — the trees, the flowers, the 
herbage; all animals are in ilimilies, and flocks, and pairs; 
the stars of heaven are sown in clusters; and emotion, pas- 
sion and thought run into fellowship from man to man, from 
men to angels, and i'wm all created intelligences to God, the 
creator and centre of all. Thus science, the useful arts, the 
beautiful arts, language, poetry, eloquence, legislation, ethics, 
and religion, all im})]y society, and grow in society. 

The laws of society are necessary and eternal. The passive, 
unthinking forms of being — organic and inorganic — cannot 
but obey these laws. But man, the thinker and self-deter- 
miner, contemplates them, reasons about thena, measures their 
relative importance, adjusts their relations by degrees, se- 



lects his spheres of action amid a wide diversity, conforms 
to these Laws, or vioLatcs them. Hence wdiile the other forms 
of being are determined into society in necessary spheres, 
man may be truly said to create society according to his own 
thought and purpose, wisely or unwisely — for good or for evil. 
The Jiistory of man is a history of the principles on which he 
has created society, and of the corresponding developments. 

But I come now to speak of only one furm of association — 
association for science, literature and art; or, simply, associa- 
tion for human culture. 

With some solitary thinker, most probably, the circle of 
human thought began. The mystery and the beauty of the 
world led to philosophic enquiry, and creative art. The con- 
ceptions and theories started, the truths gained, the work of 
useful improvement, or, of beautiful art attempted, attracted 
others as if a new oracle had become vocal. Institutions there 
were not to make scholars and artists; but scholars and artists 
had first to grow from the individual teacher; and then as 
they multiplied they became associated iu schools and institu- 
tions. These, by a concentration of mind and means, multi- 
plied scholars and artists more rapidly, gave them greater 
perfection by methodical culture and the influence of exam- 
ple, and spread wide the scholarly and artistic spirit. 

There are three stages of learned and artistic association 
to be noticed: The primal or ancient; the middle, or ecclesi- 
astical and scholastic; and the modern. The first embraces 
a period reaching down to the time of the establishment of 
the religious houses of Christianity; the second embraces the 
middle ages down to the reformation; and the third begins 
with the reformation. Each stage prepared the way for the 
succeeding; and each has its marked and peculiar character- 
istics. 

The primal stage is that where the individual thinker or artist 
becomes the centre of a school. Thouo-hts of God — the e-reat 
first cause — of the constitution of the universe, of human duty 
and destiny stir in some great original mind, and he speaks 
out his thoughts wherever he can gain a hearing — in the pub- 



lie walks and groves, in the market place, in the houses of 
friends, in familiar intercourse, or on festal occasions. Thus 
Socrates and the Stagj^rite taught. Those who habitually 
cou sorted with them became disciples, in turn to become 
teachers, or to cany out the great principles with which they 
became imbued, into public lii^. School, which now generally 
means an institution of learning, derived from the Greek 
Scliolee^ that is leisure or time removed from' public or private 
business, was applied to designate the teacher and his disci- 
X^les, and finally his peculiar doctrines. The bustle, interests, 
and employments of ordinary life were laid aside for a simple 
and pure devotion to thought, for enquiries after the True, the 
Good, and tlie Beautiful. Thus sprung up all the great 
schools of ancient philosophy, thus were men taught wisdom; 
thus was human culture carried on; thus were laid the foun- 
dations of all knowledge and all education. It was a sponta- 
neous association of great minds aspiring after the liighest 
objects that can be proposed to man. The same individuality 
marks the poets, the artists, the historians, and the orators of 
antiquity. Each formed himself by individual effort, under 
the inspirations of his own genius, availing himself of the 
knowledges which were accessible, studying the exam.pleB 
which were presented, seizing the occasions which were offer- 
ed, mouldiug language, and developing forms of beauty with 
an originality which could belong only to a period when the 
human mind, awakeniug to a consciousness of its powers un- 
der the great eye of nature, instead of finding authozities in 
the past, was driven in upon itself and created authorities for 
the future, and like a discoverer in regions untrodden before, 
wandered freely abroad in joyful expectation of wonders of 
truth and beauty. 

It is true indeed that in pure science, principles became 
fixed, that language attained to an acknowledged perfection, 
that art gained a standard of taste and rules of execution, and 
that the docti'ines of the older schools of philosophy exerted an 
influence upon those which came after them. But, neverthe- 
less, in the Grecian mind, at least, the possibility of .originality 



was never doubted, nor fresh thonght, -nor fresh efforts at cre- 
ative art oppressed by venerable and uuqnestionable authori- 
ties. There were then no Doctors of the Sorbonne. 

In the latter period of Greece, and during the classic age of 
Eome, the Schools of Philosophy, and particularly the Schools 
of the Ehetoricians exhibit some ap23roximation to the form of 
institutions of learning, with a formula of education ; but still 
the individual teacher created his own school and formed its 
centre. Cicero studied Plato and Demosthenes, but he resort- 
ed to no university ; he was taught by Koscius, but in no pub- 
lic gymnasium. Yirgil imitated the Iliad, but he caught the 
epic fire, and gained the majesty and grace of the hexameter 
from the discipline of no Homeric Institute. In forming an 
estiraate of the learned men and artists of antiquity, we must 
think of original genius, self-made men, individual efforts, in- 
dependent thoughts and aims, and the voluntary association 
of men naturally influencing each other by conversation, cor- 
respondence, daily example, and the courtesies of social life, 
"We must forget our modern ideas of educational institutions 
established by the State, or sustained by patronage and power. 
In that primal stage, education could appear in no other form 
for the idea of education was then in process of development, 
and the materials of education were accnmulatine:. 

*<^nd as there were not, properly speaking, institutions of 
learning, so there was not any system of public and general 
education. The people heard poems recited by strolling rhap- 
sodists, and by actors in the theatre ; they heard histories 
read at the public games ; they heard the orators in the pub- 
lic assemblies ; they might listen to the discourse of philoso- 
phers in the public places ; and they every where contemplated 
proportion, majesty, and beauty, in the temples and statues 
which adorned their cities and the seats of religious worship. 
It was an education throuo'h the ear and the eve ; throuo-h 
national customs, and religious ceremonies ; through legend 
and story ; through monuments of national glory, and tlie 
proud associations of places connected with heroic deeds. It 
was a moulding of the character through sentiments, emo- 
tions, andjpassioHj infused and quickened by the objects and 



incidents of tlieir daily life, where the objects and inci- 
dents were created and ordered by the genius, taste, and 
activity of the presiding minds which dwelt in a higlier sphere. 
Wisdom, beaut}^, poetry, and mnsic dwelt first of all upon 
Olympna, thence they descended to dwell at Delphi, and upon 
the Acropolis: their priests and representatives were a god-like 
order of men; and through them the whole people felt the 
influence of the heavenly visitation. Such was the beauty, 
j)oetry, and heroism of the life of the Greeks, that their my- 
thology seems almost to be established by the facts of their 
history, so naturally consequential was the one uj^on the other. 
The cultivated class among the Eomans assimilated to the 
cultivated class among the Greeks, and tlieir education pro- 
ceeded by the same means; but the Koman j^eople never im- 
bibed the Athenian spirit of letters and art, and never reached 
the Athenian polish and grace. The shadow of Olympus did 
not stretch itself to the banks of the Tiber. But the Roman, 
no less than the Athenian, formed a strong national character 
through legend and story, through the associations of places 
and jjroud historical recollections, and through tbe influence 
of political institutions. 

Education, among the ancients, viewed as a process, wa& 
varied, undetermined, independent, often accidental, and 
strongly individual; and in its diftusion took the ease and 
freedom of social life instead of that cloistered seclusion and 
disciplinary movement which are so familiar to us. As a re- 
sult, it pres-ents us men of the highest powers under a noble 
culture; a civilized people wonderful for thought, imagination, 
and taste, or a people of stern and lofty nationalism; works 
in literature and art, which, unsurpassed if not unequalled, 
have long since been acknowledged by mankind as models 
which can never lose their authority, and can never cease tO' 
instruct; many important truths in pure science, and valuable 
researches in physics; and speculations in philosophy, immortal 
as thought itself. 

In this early association of thought and of artistic labor,. 
xiQ find the fountains of our own cultivation and civilization- 



It was the fresh morning of human development, when meth^ 
ocl and system were not yet attained, when knowledge remain- 
ed nnripe and gave promises to the future; but it left truths, 
examples, and memorials which have ever controlled human 
progress, and can never be forgotten. 

These solitary thinkers with their few disciples — these poetSy 
historians, and orators in tlie simple strength of their genius — 
these artists, working out the ideal conceptions of their own 
minds, were the only educators of the day in which they lived, 
and they have ever remained the educators of mankind. 
What would antiquity be without these but a barren waste ? 
We would have a spectacle of the rise and fall of dynasties, 
the march of armies, the tumult of battle, and the glory of 
conquest: we might have also useful arts, and commerce, and 
wealth, leadino; on a barbaric ma£:nilicence. But now that 
tliey have passed away, what would tliey be to us but a story 
or a dream — a Bab}- Ion, a Tyre, a Carthage, to fill a page of 
history, but leaving nothing behind to inspire, to elevate, to 
improve mankind? The very wars of the classic nations 
have an interest beyond all others, because they exhibit the 
struggles of civilization against barbarism: — They are the he- 
roic defending the true, the good, and the beautiful. The 
labors of Genius have given immoi-tality to these nations. 
The j3oetry, the philosophy, the eloquence, the histories, the 
splendid works of art still survive. The memory and influence 
of these nations are imperishable, because they continue to 
teacli us great truths, to hold up before us the most perfect mod- 
els of literary production and of the beautiful arts, and to in- 
sj^ire us with enthusiasm for intellectual culture and refinement. 

Of what peculiar interest or value to us are the stories of 
the Ileraclidse, of the kings and chieftains who went to the 
sack of Troy, of gods, demigods, and kings, and of all the va- 
rious characters, mythological or historical, asssociated with 
the little country of Greece ? Or of what peculiar interest 
and value is Greece itself? There are other countries whose 
natural features and productions might interest us equally or 
even more: Other nations too, have their mythologies au'il 
heroic legends, and stories. See you not that it is the genius 



10 

of Homer and tlie dramatic poets, and of artists like Phidias 
and Praxitiles, calling into life from these crude and rough 
materials forms of matchless beauty; weaving into matchless 
verse, or expressing in marble, incidents and events tender 
and heroic, and connected with all the deep principles and 
passions of human nature, illustrating government legisla- 
tion social life and divine providence and justice — see you 
not that it is this that has given interest and value to what 
otherv>'ise could, at most, only amuse a vacant hour — working 
out from ordinary materials, ideal beauty, grandeur and truth, 
to charm and instruct the human mind forever ? And when 
we add to these the unsurpassed works of j^hilosophers, ora- 
tors, and historians, we comprehend why men of every form 
of culture should look to Greece as the fatherland of civiliza- 
tion and education. 

The Roman Empire with its majesty and power was 
an impressive spectacle — so was the the Persian — so is the 
Chinese and the Kussian. But the Dictators, Triumvirs, 
and Cffisars of the Ancient Empire, viewed alone, luive for 
us little more interest than the Emperors and Czars of the 
modern d^^nastics. Greece perpetuated in Kome — Roman 
legislation, literature, art, and eloquence — Roman civilization 
and culture draw forever the heart of humanity towards the 
city of the seven hills. 

And thus in contemplating this i^rimal period, we are taught 
at once the great truth, that the life of nations no less than 
the iite of individuals, is important to the world, and survives 
in the memory and veneration of after times, only as connect- 
ed wdth the progress of knowledge, the development of 
tliouglit, the cultivation of taste, improvement in arts, and, in 
general, with the advancement of the spiritual interests of man. 

In proceeding to the second stage of learned association 
iind educational development, it is necessary to remark that 
ai a general and rapid review, like the present, it is not pos- 
sible to mark with exactness the fci-ansition from one stage to 
the other. Indeed, in the nature of the case, it must have 
been gradual, extending through centuries, appearing under 
different phases, and with m_oiV5 orless distinctness. 



11 

First of all, let ?tlie distin-ctive cliaracteristics of tLe two 
stages be clearly :borne in mind : — the first presents the inde- 
pendent teacher going forth to utter what he conceived to be 
truths, as he best could, under no legal authority, and con- 
nected with no incorporated society or institution. The phi- 
losopher and the poet were equally free, and impelled alike 
by tlie simple power of original thought and the inspiration 
of genius. The Greek, particularly, had every thing within 
himself. His own language, the most perfect, perhaps, ever 
used by man, was sufficient for him, and he cultivated no 
other: and whatever hints he may have received from other 
nations, through some travelling philosopher, he passed so far 
beyond them, and exhibited such independence in his think- 
ing, that they are scarcely to be regarded as elements of his 
system. Such hints have little more relation to Grecian phi- 
losophy tlian the letters of Cadmus to the dramas of JEs- 
chylus. 

In the second stage, there appears the necessity of referring 
to the past, and becoming acquainted with what the human 
mind had already successfully achieved. There were culti- 
vated languages to be learned, master works in literature and 
art to be studied, systems of philosophy to be examined, and 
scientific truths to be acquired. The Roman could not be as 
original as the Greek, and had first to become a scholar ere 
he could be a philosopher, poet, or orator. 

The classic period of Rome added still more to the mass of 
philosophical and literary material, and imposed upon subse- 
quent ages the necessity of a still wider erudition. And when 
the Latin itself ceased to be a living tongue, or existed only 
in a degenerated and corrupted form, two classical languages 
instead of one had to be acquired as the necessary portals 
to those treasures of thought and beauty which the genius of the 
ancients had created, and which v/ere hencotbrtli to lead the 
way of profound and elegant culture. 

l!^ew and powerful elements of intellectual development 
had also been introduced with the Christian religion. The 
^eat author of this religion taught after the manne:- of tlie 



12 

ancient philosophers, but with a perfection and power which 
surpassed them all. He taught every where — in the temple 
and in the synagogue, in the highways and in the open fields, 
or in private dwellings amid the informality of social con- 
verse. He taught with the freest method, and used the most 
familiar illustrations, and yet he taught such doctrines as had 
never been heard before. He organized no schools; he sim- 
ply taught. Mightier than the Sibyls, wliile, like them, he 
seemed to scatter his truths to the winds, he securely planted 
them in human hearts, and nursed a power destined to over- 
throw the old religious, revolutiouize social organization, and 
regenerate the world. With his Apostles, organization began, 
and the Church was instituted. At first, simple associations, 
scattered, and more or less independent, appeared. The or- 
ganization itself seemed a spontaneous growth from the sa- 
cred affinities created by a common faith and hope, com- 
mon dangers and exigencies, and common duties. From this 
unostentatious beginning arose a vast ecclesiastical system, 
with a mighty hierarchy, which spread itself over the Roman 
Empire, and finally took possession of the throne of the Ca3sars. 

Witli Christianity there grew up a new, peculiar, and ex- 
tensive literature. There were first the sacred writings; 
then the epistles, homilies, j)olemics, and theologies of the 
fathers. Theology took a two-fold form — the orthodox and 
the heretical. Both allied themselves to philosophy; the 
first basing itself upon the sacred writings, called in philoso- 
phy as an adjunct authority, and to aid in inter|)retation and 
exposition: the second, basing itself upon some favorite 
philosophy, sought to mould the sacred writings to its dogmas. 
Christianity, a doctrine of God, of duty, and of immortality, 
swept over tlie whole field of philosophy, and connected itself 
with the profoundest and most momentous questions that can 
agritate the human soul. 

The study of languages, antiquities, philosophy, and rhet- 
oric, seemed involved in the inculcation and progress of this 
religion. It was, in truth, a great system of teaching, where 
each society or church became a school, and the priest or min- 



13 

ifiter a public instructor. And as cojDies of the sacred writ- 
ings were multiplied, readers would naturally increase, and 
the value of the art of reading be correspondinglj enhanced. 
That education, therefore, should under Christianity be diffus- 
ed among the people, and take the form of institutions, and 
adopt a determined method, was an inevitable result. Could 
this religion have preserved its original simplicity and jjurity, 
and remained disconnected with pride, ambition, and power 
it might, perhaps, in its natural quiet movement, have given 
birth to a system of universal education, and advanced all 
sciences and arts, at the same time that it was accomijlishino- 
the spiritual regeneration of society. But even as actually 
developed, we shall see how close and important was its con- 
nection with the advancement of knowledge and the rise of 
institutions of learning. 

For centuries before the fall of the Eoman Empire, luxury 
had produced effemiancy with all its attendant vices. The 
decay of national spirit, of virtue and manliness has ever 
marked the deterioration of letters and the arts; and thus the 
fall of the empire was preceded by the disappearance of all 
that had signalized and graced the Augustan age. But this 
was the very period during wliich the patristic literature had 
been accumulating. And when the barbarians had finally 
completed their conquest followed by the almost total loss of 
classical learning, although the church was not exemj)t from 
the prevailing ignorance, still the Latin language was pre- 
served in her canons and liturgies, aud in the Vulgate, so that 
whatever of learning remained was found for the most j)art 
in the Church. 

The leading Ecclesiastics, indeed, cherished the strongest 
p-ejudices against secular learning. Gregory I,, the founder 
of papal supremacy, directed all his authority against it, and 
is even reported to have committed to the flames a library of 
heathen authors. In some monastic foundations, the perusal 
of the works of heathen authors was forbidden. Nevertheless, 
the tenacious adherence of the clergy to the Latin liturgy, and 
to the Vulgate translation of the Scriptures, and their implicit 



14 

submission to the Fathers, in presefving: the Latin language, 
preserved the very records of that literature which they neg- 
lected and contemned. Another circumstance, too, and that 
perhaps purely accidental, contributed still more to the pres- 
ervation of classical literature. The order of St. Benedict, so 
tvidely diffused through the Church, were enjoined by their 
founder to read, copy, and collect books, without any specifi- 
cation as to their character, probably presuming that they 
would be religious books. They obeyed the injunction literally, 
and classical manuscripts were collected, and copies multi- 
plied. 

It thus came to pass that monastic institutions became the 
great conservatories of books, and the means of multiplying 
them. It must not be forgotten too, however we may be op- 
posed to the institution of monasticisra, that during centuries 
of intellectual darkness and barbarism, when war formed the 
chief employment of men who sought for distiu'Ction, the 
monasteries became the quiet retreats of the gentler and more 
elevated spirits who wished to escape from the violence of the 
World, and to engage in the genial pursuits ot literature and 
philosophy. The scholar became of necessity an ecclesiastic. 
We cannot be surprised, therefore, that schools of learning 
sprung up under the shadow of convents and cathedrals. 
One feature distingaished the Church even in the dark ages — 
let it be remembered to its honor — which peculiarly adapted 
it to foster the interests of learning, and to raise up learned 
men; in awarding its benefits, in bestowing its honors, it paid 
no respect to rank: to it, the noble and the peasant were un- 
distinguished; and from the lowest grades of society might 
arise the successor of St. Peter, to set his foot upon the neck 
of Kings and Emperors. Here then was opened to the peo- 
ple the possibility of social elevation and power, and here 
simple genius and learning might hope to escape frem obscu- 
rity and gain the loftiest stations. 

There is but one parallel case. In the Italian cities the mu- 
nicipal judges were chosen from among the body of the citi- 
zens; and so r-apid-Wa& the rotation of office, that every citizen 



15 

might hope in his turn to participate in the government, 
Now it is remarkable that the study of Roman Jurisprudence 
was revived to such a degree at Bologna that a famous Uni- 
versity sprang up, and the only one that can dispute with the 
Universities of Oxford and Paris the claim to the earliest an- 
tiquity. In both instances, it was the removal of the inter- 
dicts which every where else debarred the people from all 
hope of advancement, that quickened the ambition of learn- 
ing. ISTature hath ever her own noblemen whom she will set 
forward, unless arbitrary institutions prevent. 

The first schools, after the barbarians had completed the 
overthrow of the Empire and of all imperial institutions, were 
merely of an elementary character, and were established by 
certain Bishops and Abbots, in the sixth century. These 
conventual and cathedral schools were probably at first de- 
signed for neophytes, to fit them for engaging witli propriety 
in the church service. Their benefits however were not con- 
fined to these. To wliat extent these schools were multiplied, 
it is impossible to determine with exactness. They assumed 
a higher character under the direction of eminent men such 
as Theodore, Bede, and Alcuin. Charlemagne invited the lat- 
ter from England, in co^nnection with Clement of Ireland, and 
Theodolf of Germany, to establisli or restore the cathedral 
and conventual schools in France. The division of sciences 
which obtained in them is remarkable. The first was the 
Tri'ovum^ comprising grammar, logic, and rhetoric: The eec- 
ond was the Quadrivium^ comprising n)usic, arithmetic, ge- 
ometry, and astronomy. Few studied the Quadrivium at all; 
and the instances were rare where the Triviumv^'ds mastered. 
'The theological aspect which was given even to these studies, is 
evident from the fact that the study of music was confined to 
chanting the church service, and- astronomy to the calcula- 
tion of Easter. 

Jurisprudence and theology were the two governing pow- 
ers of edueatioual development, which gave rise to Univer- 
sities. The latter, hoAvever.. was the chlef^-and is mainly to be- 
€©!asidered. 



16 

Hitberto, two methods of theological discussion had ob- 
tained. During the first six centuries, we have the method of 
the fathers — that of interpreting the Scriptures by their own 
ability and skill, and by the decisions and traditions of the 
Church, as these accumulated from century to century. In 
the eighth century, or perhaps earlier, the Fathers were them- 
selves received as authority conjointly with the Scriptures 
and the decisions of the Church. 

But the establishment of cathedral and conventual schools 
could not but advance human thought. Scholars of more or 
less eminence were found scattered through the middle ages. 
Scholars were engaged in founding and perfecting these 
schools, and gave in them an impulse to study. A taste for 
philosophical speculation would naturally spring up, and the 
very study of the Fathers would tend to foster it. The logic 
of Augustine was in use; this was followed by tbe logic and 
metaphysics of Aristotle, although at first opposed by Popes 
and Councils. 

Questions in theology naturally ally themselves to meta- 
phyisics; and polemics as naturally call in the aid of dialec- 
tics. Lanfranc and Anselm, successively Archbishops of 
Canterbury, made use of metaj)hysical ideas as well as of the 
Aristotelian dialectics, in their controversy with Berenger res- 
pecting trans abstaiitiation. Now arose a new method of 
theological discussion; it was no longer a simple appeal to the 
Scriptures, nor an ap2>eal to tlie Scriptures, the Fathers, and 
the decisions and traditions of the Church conjointly. It be- 
came now an appeal to Keason also. And yet it was not an 
independent appeal; but tbe received dogmas remaining un- 
questioned, Reason vras bent to expound and fortify them. 
" The principle of the Schoolmen, in their investigations 
was the expanding, developing, and if possible, illustrating 
and clearing from objection the doctrines of natural and re- 
vealed religion, in a dialectical method and by dint of the 
subtlest reason. The questions which we deem altogether 
metaphysical, such as that concerning universal ideas, became 
theological in their hands," 



17 

The founder of the Schoolmen and of the scholastic system, 
so called from Scholw — the schools which Charlemagne open- 
'cd, is generally received to be Eoscelin, who flourished at the 
close of the 11th century. He revived the question respect- 
ing universal ideas, and with him commenced the celebrated 
controversy between the ISTominalists and Realists. Three 
names figure at the beginning of this controversy — Eoscelin, 
the Nominalist, William of Champeaux, the Eealist, and 
Abelard, M'ho endeavored to occupy a middle ground. The 
intense interest awakened by this controversy, and the multi- 
tudes who waited upon the discussions, can be explained only 
by the fact that a new ""field was opened to the human intel- 
lect and the authority of human reason brought in. It was 
assuiiied, indeed, that reason should not transcend the dogmas 
of faith, and there was always professedly a submission of the 
former to tlie latter: but the charge brought against the nom- 
inalists of subverting the doctrine of the Trinity by reducing 
it to a mere nominal unity of persons; and the counter-charge 
brought against the realists, of a tendency to Atheism, prove 
that there was a freedom of thought and language indulge<l 
in by both parties which could not be restrained within the 
limits of theological precision. The controversy was carried 
on until the fifteenth century, when, at the Eevival of Letters, 
it gave place to objects and themes more closely connected 
with the progress of knowledge, and the improvement of the 
world. Two things were gained, however, of the utmost im- 
portance, and which co-worked to the same end: First, the 
human intellect was awakened, and a taste for scholarship 
widely diffused. Secondly, Universities were established. 

"William of Champeaux opened a School of Logic, in Paris, 
in 1109. The dialectic skill and the gracefnl eloquence of 
Abelard, drew together thousands of eager disciples. In the 
School of William of Champeaux, was the germ of the Univer- 
eity of Paris, for with it commenced a regular succession of 
teachers. The lectures of Abelard, both when delivered in 
Paris and at the Paraclete, from the enthusiasm they awak- 
ened, and the numbers they collected, were a daz/Jing exhibition 
2 



18 

of the power of oral teaching in even the most abstruse sub- 
jects. In both there was something like a return to the method 
of the old Grecian Schools. There was this difference, how- 
ever: The ancient philosophers belonged to no order, and 
taught with the utmost freedom. Champeaux and Abelard 
belonged to the Church, and were presumed never to transcend 
its dogmas. Indeed, it would not have been lawful for them 
to teach a pure science, that is, a science uncontrolled by the- 
ological ends and aims. 

From the time of Champeaux and Abelard, schools multi- 
plied in Paris. The scholastic discussions seemed to have 
created a sort of dialectic phrenzy. About the middle of the 
twelfth century, the influx of scholars into Paris was so great 
that they were, somewhat extravagantly, indeed, said to out- 
number the citizens. Philip Augustus was led, sometime af- 
ter this, to enlarge the boundaries of the city to afford them 
accommodations. Students flocked from foreign countries. 
TJie Faculty of Arts in Paris was divided into four nations: 
France, Picardy, ISTormaLdy, and England. In 1-^53, there 
were twenty-five thousand students in Paris. Universities 
multiplied also in other countries. Paris w^as distinguished 
for Scliolastic Theology; Bologna for Jurisprudence; Salerno 
for Medicine. Ten thousand students resorted to Bologna. 
At Oxford, in the time of Henry HI., the number of students 
was reckoned also by thousands. 

Universities became distinct corporations by Eoyal Char- 
ters, and the Holy See threw its protection around them. 

But what was the peculiar organization of these institu- 
tions? They differed from tlie Greek Schools in that they 
were a collection of teachers forming one incorporated society. 
They diftered from the Cathedral and Conventual Schools, in 
that these were elementary and isolated, while the Uni- 
versities aimed at the liighest developments of knowledge, 
and were associations for the purposes of learning, embracing 
multitudes. 

The Teachers were indiffereiitly C:alled Masters, Doctors. 
and Eegeuts. The first name indicated that they had com' 



19 

passed the arts, and thence become Masters of Arts; the sec- 
ond, that the J were qualified to teach Philosophy; the third, 
that they had authority to direct Education. 

The arts comprised the Triviura and Quadrivium, which 
included together seven branches — Grammar, Logic, Ehetoric, 
Music, Arithmetic, Geometry, and Astronomy. Philosophy 
was divided into three branches, and thence called the three 
philosophies, namely. Theology, Law, and Medicine. A par- 
ticular university, however, as we have seen, cultivated fre- 
(piently, in an especial degree, only one of these philosophies. 

According to the statutes of Oxford, ratified by Archbishop 
Laud, there were four faculties in which the University fur- 
nished education and granted degrees — Arts, Theology, Civil 
Law, aud Medicine. 

Four years attendance on the lectures of the first faculty 
was required to qualify for the degree of Bachelor of Arts; 
and seven years for the degree of Master of Arts. 

To commence the course in the faculty of Theology, a mas- 
tership in Arts was a pre-requisite. Seven years attendance 
on the lectures qualified for the degree of Pachelor of Divin- 
ity, and four more years for the degree of Doctor'. In the fac- 
ulty of Civil Law, a mastership in Arts was not a pre-requisite: 
but the Master obtained the Bachelor's degree in Law in three 
years, and the Doctor's in seven; while the simple student was 
required to attend five years for the first, and ten for the second. 

In Medicine, a mastership in Arts was a pre-requisite; aud 
three years attendance on the lectures qualified for a Bache- 
lor's degree in Medicine, and seven for a Doctor's. 

Degrees were also granted in particular branches, as in 
Logic aud Phetonc. In Music, a separate degree is given 
even at the present day. 

The branches embraced by the Arts were multiplied as knowl- 
edge advanced. Hence, in the time of Laud, Greek, Natural 
Philosophy, Metaphysics, Moral Philosophy, History, and He- 
brew arespecified in addition to thesevenartsbeforementioned. 

In the original constitution of Paris and Oxford, the Uni- 
versity was taught and governed by the graduates at large 
— all the graduates were teachers. Graduation was nothasnf 



20 

more nor less than a formal reception into the body of Teach- 
ers comprising the University Faculties. 

The Bachelor was an imperfect graduate admitted to exer- 
cise the vocation of Teacher partially for the sake of improve- 
ment. Hence, he was said incijperc^ to commence the vocation; 
and the commencement ceremony was his induction into office. 

The Master, or perfect graduate, alone could regere — govern 
or be a Regent. At first the Teachers, or Masters, received fees 
from their pupils. Afterwards, to certain Masters, salaries were 
appointed, and these gave lectures gratuitously. All graduates 
were obligated to teach during a certain term, and privileged to 
teach perpetually, also; but their number became so great that 
accommodations could not be provided for all: nor were the 
services of all necessary. The term of Regency was there- 
fore ofcen abbreviated, and even dispensed with altogether: 
but the University could compel the services of the graduatea, 
whenever it became necessary to increase the number of 
Teachers. The salaried Teachers, too, would naturally take 
precedence; and these, together with others whom natural in- 
clination and peculiar circumstances led to select the vocation 
of a Teacher, formed a permanent body, who in time were 
called Professors^ simply from the fact that they professed, or 
addicted themselves to certain branches of instruction. Thus 
Professor, again, became identical with Master, Doctor, and 
Regent, in designating a certain office. In time the number 
of Professors was limited by statute, and when others besides 
the regular Professors were allowed to teach, their powers and 
privileges were of a secondary grade. 

The Cathedral and Conventual Schools still remained, and 
other schools of a similar grade came to be established pri- 
vately, or by endowment. All these were preparatory to the 
University. The University, we perceive, was from the vqtj 
beginning an association of learned men, whose great object 
was the advancementofall knowledge, and of the highest forms 
of education. Like the schools of the ancients, they came up 
spontaneously, and were the work of individuals, and not of 
the State. Like them, too, they gave instruction orally; and 



21 

the living teacher communicated to his pupils his own origi- 
nal researches and conceptions expressed with the force and 
freedom of his own style and manner. They were therefore 
the legitimate successors of the former, and afford a rcmarka- 
V)le proof how the laws which govern the develo[)ment of tiie 
human mind and of society preserve their identity tlu-ongh 
the sweep of ages. The respects in which they differed i'rom 
tJie ancient schools were equally legitimate. They became a 
ouinpact association of scliools, because, science and literature, 
jjow developed into branches, existing in multiform works, 
?issuming fixed principles, and represented by acknowledged 
standards, constituted a defined basis, on which association 
was possible. The same causes, also, led them to common 
methods and processes, as educational institutions. 

After Universities had come into existence, they received 
charters from the State, and werei3laced under the protection 
of both State and Church ; but they ever maintained and ex- 
ercised, like other corporations, their own rights and powers. 
They elected their own officers, and adopted their own regula- 
tions, as institutions in themselves competent to discharge the 
great duties they had undertaken. They were not the work 
of sciolists and empirics. Created by great men, they have 
ever multiplied scholars, and been the fountains of letters and 
science, and of modern civilization. 

Popular education could not be the starting point of educa- 
rjon, for tlie ignorant masses are of necessity incompetent to 
])Ian and adopt measures for their own improvement. Indi- 
viduals elevated above their age and the people around them, 
hy superior genius, and a peculiar inspiration of thought, 
called out by circumstances sometimes extraordinary, and 
often accidental, took the lead. Homer Avill always remain a 
mystery ; and yet Greek art, letters and civilization must be 
referred back to his immortal work as their inception. Socra- 
tes is a miracle of humanity, and stands alone ; but he is the 
acknowledged father of an undying philosophy, Bacon w\as 
ciie onlj man to write the lustauration of the Sciences, and the 



22 

Xovnm Organum. Cliristianity itself — the di\'3iie religion, 
uiade its advent in the solitary Jesus of Kazareth. 

From the solitary poet, philosopher and reformer, proceeds 
the quickening and regenerating truth, first of all, to be re- 
ceived by the few. Then by association the truth gains pow- 
er, is M'idely disseminated, and, finally, permeates the masses 
of society. Such is the jjrogiess of knowledge and education. 
The first period shows us the solitary gaining the few. The 
second period shows us the beginning of association prepara- 
tory to the universal diffusion of knowledge. The third pe- 
riod is that in which association will be perfected, and the 
universal diffusion of knowledge take place. In Universities 
vfe have the association which in the end creates common 
schools, or schools for the people. 

In our country, when attention is directed to the higher in- 
stitutions of learning, the idea and title of a college always 
come before us. The title imwersity is sometimes used, and 
not unfrequently is applied where there is not even a fully 
developed college ; but a University, properly speaking, as it 
does not exist among us, so generally no adequate conception is 
ormed of it; and we are prone to speak of colleges as if all our 
wants of high and perfect education are met by them alone. 

It would probably surprise many to hear it afiirmed that 
colleges originally were not institutions of learning at all, and 
are wholly unessential to a university. Their origin was sira- 
i)ly as follows : The thousands of students who flocked to the 
great universities of Europe were accommodated with board 
and lodging in the halls, inns, and chambers ; while the pul>- 
lic lectures were delivered at first at the private rooms of the 
professors, and afterwards in buildings appropriated to that 
purpose. Certain streets contained these buildings : Thus, in 
Oxford, in School street, there were forty buildings, containing 
each from four to sixteen class rooms : In Paris the four na- 
tions of the Faculty of Arts resorted to the Eue de la Fuoarre. 
A scarcit} of lodgings arising from the great influx of stu- 
dents, the exorbitant demands for rent consequent upon this, 
as well as the vices to which students were exposed in large 



23 

cities, led beneviplent and pious individuals to establish col- 
leges where board and lodging were furnished to poor stu- 
dents, and a religious supervision and discipline instituted for 
the preservation of their morals. Colleges were therefore 
merely accessories to the universities. 

In Italj colleges never advanced beyond this. In Germany 
they advanced very little, and never sufficiently to modity the 
system of education. Here, too, they have entirely disap- 
peared, the name Burscli — given now in common to the stu- 
dents, from the title Bursar origiually appropriated to those 
who inhabited collegiate houses — being the only memorial of 
them remaining. 

In Paris, Regents taken from the University schools were 
occasionally appointed to lecture in the colleges. This prac- 
tice in time became so general that the public rooms were de- 
serted for the college halls. The Theological FacuUy confined 
their lectures almost wholly to the College of the Sorbonne, so 
that the Sorbonne a.nd the Theological Faculty became con- 
vertible titles. In the fifteenth century the faculty of arts 
was distributed through eighteen colleges. In the colleges of 
Paris,however,the faculties of the University always retained 
the ascendency, and the University, instead of being superse- 
ded, was only divided into parts. Napoleon really restored the 
integrity of the University. The Sorbonne still remains, but 
5s occupied by the four faculties of Science, Letters^ Law, and 
Medicine. The College of France still remains, but in its 
courses and appointments is absorbed in the great uuiversity 
system. 

In England, the colleges are eleemosynary lay corporations, 
■■• v/hoily subject to the laws, statutes and ordinances which 
the founder makes, and to the visitors whom he appoints." 
The College " consists of a head, called by the various names 
^of Provost, Master, Rector, Principal, or Warden, and of a 
body of Fellows, and generally of Scholars, also, besides vari- 
ous ofiicers or serrants, according to the peculiar nature of the 
foundation." 

The Fellows ai'e elected generally from the graduates of the 



24 

college. They are elected for life, if tliey remain nnmarried, or 
until they accept some other appointment inconsistent with the 
terms of the fonndation. Eooms arc assigned them in the 
college, together with board at the commons. They receiTe- 
also a stipend varying from thirty ponnds or less, to two hun- 
dred and fifty pounds, and upwards. I^o duties appear to be 
positively assigned them, but as they generally belong to the 
church, it is presumed, if not intended, that they shall addict 
themselves to theology. 

The colleges of England, like those of the continent, were 
originally " unessential accessories " of the Universities. The 
Universities existed before they were founded — the Universi- 
ties must have continued to exist had the colleges afterwards- 
been abolished. 

In England, however, a portentous change came over the 
universities through the influence of the colleges. The result 
is. that at the present day the universities exist almost wholly 
111 name, and scarcely exercise any function beyond that of 
conferring degrees. The instraction has gone into the hands 
of the colleges, and is conducted by the fellows, while the 
duties of the professors are nomxinal. The Universities have,, 
therefore, really retrograded to the state from which they 
had centuries before emerged, and hence have become agaiii 
a collection of Cathedral and Conventual Schools. 

Formerly they were taught by eminent professors with the 
freedom and originality of public lectures. !N"ow they are 
taught like grammar Schools, by tutors who are often juve- 
nile, who have been elected by favoritism or by chance, and 
who have generally achieved no distinction and are unknov/n 
to the woi'ld of Science and Letters. 

Hence the English Universities have remained stationary; 
while continental Universities have reached a higher develop- 
jnent, and have entered upon a new and more glorious era of 
academical existence. 

The continental Universities have identified their progress 
with the progress of Science. The English are not yet fallj 
emancipated from the spirit of Scholasticism. 



25 

Universities, we have seen were an advance upon the an- 
cient Schools, in that they were compact associations of the 
learned for the two great objects of promoting knowledge, 
and of determining the method and carrying on the work of 
Education. In form and aims they were complete. Hence, 
they can never be superseded. But we come now to a third 
period where begins what we may call the culminating stage 
of learned associaton and Educational development. 

Universities, we say, as to their form and aims were com- 
plete; but they labored under manifold incumbrances. The 
spirit of the ancient Schools was more free, pure, elastic and 
productive than that of the Universities, although they had 
not reached the proper forms,nor arrived at the conception of 
universal Education. A union of the two was necessary to a 
new progress. It was necessary that j^hilosophy should be dis- 
enthralled from Scholasticism; that thought and investigation 
should be disenthralled from ecclesiastical prescription ; and 
that Scientific method should be disenthralled from the dicta 
of authority, and the true method determined in the spirit of 
independence. 

Three centuries were appropriated to this work, the fif- 
teenth, sixteenth and seventeenth, which vv^e call collectively, the 
period of the Reformation, although the Reformation, strictly 
speaking occurred in the sixteenth. But the fifteenth was 
preparatory to the sixteenth, and the seventeenth was the con- 
tinuation of the preceding century — the carrying out of its 
spirit. 

The taking of Constantinople was the great event of the fif- 
teenth century. This drove the Greek Literati into Europe. 
They brought with them the Greek language, Greek art, lit- 
erature and philosophy. The cloistered scholastics of Europe^ 
were surprised and fascinated by beauty of form, beauty of 
poetic conception, imagery and verse, and by the various tree 
and brilliant philosophies of the classic land and the classic 
age. The dry subtleties of Scholasticism could not abide & 
comparison with the Socratic dialogues; and the Aiistotle of 
the Schools,in his theological dress was put to shame and ban- 



26 

ivshed as an impostor hj the Aristotle who came fresh from his 
native clime, and spoke his native tongue. 

And thus Scholasticism disappeared never to return; and 
Greek phi'osophj, multifarious and confused indeed, became 
for a time, the universal enchantment. 

'No less signal in the sixteenth century "was the destruction 
of ecclesiastical prescription by Luther, the man of the Ke- 
formation. The authority of truth and of God supplanted 
the authority of the Church. 

In Bacon and DesCartes the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies are united. Leibnitz and Locke belong to the seven- 
teenth. .Four illustrious names are these. "With them was 
born the spirit of intellectual independence. They cover the 
whole field of philosophy. Bacon and Locke were of the 
sensualistic School; DesCartes of the Idealistic; and Leibnitz 
attempted to harmonize the two. But they all agreed in re- 
])elling against authority, in proclaiming freedom of thought, 
and in seeking a basis for science in fact and demonstrated 
truth alone. 

The Novum Organum of Bacon particularly is regarded as 
introducing tliat new era of scientific investigation whose 
splendid results we are daily witnessing. 

It was inevitable that this threefold disenthrallment should 
exert an influence upon the Educational System. It was just 
what was required to perfect it. The progress of knowledge 
and education exert upon each other a reciprocal influence. — 
One caonot advance without the other. 

There have been just three things accomplished in respect 
to Education. First, the erection of new associations as com- 
plements of the University. Secondly, the perfection of the 
University system of discipline. Thirdly, the development 
of a system of jDopular education. 

The first we find in the special associations which have been 
framed for promoting the Arts and Sciences, such as the Roy- 
al Academy of London, the Eoyal Society of London, the 
Royal Academy of Berlin, and the Institute of France. Asso- 
ciations more or less aj^proximating to European Academies 



27 

begin to appear in oar own country. The Hojal Society of 
London was established on the phm of Bacon, first at Oxford 
in IGio; eighteen years afterwards it was removed to London. 
Tiio Koyal Academy of Berlin, was planned and founded by 
Leibnitz. He was its first President, and edited the first vol- 
ume of its transactions. We call these academies com- 
plements to the University, for this reason: Composed of the 
most eminent scholars, they devote themselves exclusively to 
one function of the University in relation to Science and Art, 
namely, — investigation, and discovery; and add to this the 
publication of the latest results. This function is thus rend- 
ered more efficient; while the University, proper, devotes itself 
more particularly to the work of Education. 

In proceeding to consider the modern development of tlie 
University system, we cannot fail to remark that the inde- 
pendent spirit and the freedom of the ancient schools have come 
to be united with the university organization of the model 
age, through the threefold disenthrallment already pointed out; 
and Education is now conducted in the light of that legiti. 
mate philsophy which has taken the place of scholasticism, is 
is no longer burthened by ecclesiastical prescription, and 
emancipated from mere authority, has attained the method 
and aims of a determinate science. We do not say that this 
revolution is complete and univergal ; but it has advanced so 
far in the most illustrious and influential universities,that very 
perfect models already exist, and the ultimate and complete 
triumph cannot be far distant. 

There are three things to be considered in an educational 
system : 1. The natural order of the development of the hu- 
man faculties ; 2. The studies best adapted to this order in 
advancing from one stage to another ; 3. How far education 
should be prescribed as a discipline; and when it should be 
exchanged for free and independent study wdiere knowledge 
is the object, and culture the necessary attendant. 

The University relates to the last. The mind is presumed 
to" have received a discipline, by which, having gained an 



28 

insight into method, it can now freely go out in search of 
knowledge, and with wise discrimination avail itself of the 
abundant means and appliances provided in the University, 
quickened and aided by the voice of the living teacher, lead- 
ing the way in investigation and thought. Examination of 
books, original investigations, hearing tlie teacher and con- 
ducting disputations with him — these constitute the employ- 
ments of the University. Disputation is essential, for it leada 
to a more perfect analysis, and clears away difficulties. So- 
crates' whole method was one of disputation. In some, at 
least, of the universities of the scholastic age, the Professor was 
bound to sit after he had delivered his lecture, and hear and 
answer objections. Abelard was at first a pupil of William 
of Champeaux ; but the objections of the pupil seem to have 
confounded the master, until the former becoming, in turn, a 
lecturer, he outran his master in celebrity and popularity. 

Ijoth the ancient schools and the Universities of the middle 
age had the true method. Eoth, however, were defective in 
other respects. The ancients had not jvroperly a preparatory 
<liscipline. That of the middle ages was imperfect as to the 
knowledges taught, and by the want of an orderly and philo- 
sophical progress — a progress graduated to the constitution of 
the mind. It is probable that the introduction of teaching 
into the colleges was at first induced by the want of a proper 
preparation for the university lectures on the part of the resi- 
dents . 

The ancients, again, were without organization. The middle 
age had organization, but was without true freedom of thought. 

See' now, what has been.' accomj^lished in the modern age ! 
I cannot go to England for illustrations, for there has been re- 
trogradation instead of progress. I must of necessity go to 
France and Germany. I will confine myself to the last, for 
Germany has taken the lead in modern] university develop- 
ment. In Germany we find a science of Pedagogy, and in- 
stitutions based upon it. Pedagogy is the combined result of 
s. priori psychological determination, of observation and ex- 



29 

periment. Psychology gives the mental faculties, and the 
natural order of their develoj^ment ; observation confirms 
this ; experiment tests studies and method. We do not afiirm 
that pedagogical science is perfected ; but we know that it is 
in progress and has already led to important results. We 
see these results in the schools preparatory to the university, 
and in the University itself. The limits of each have been de- 
termined, and their proper relation revealed ; courses of study 
have been adjusted to the human faculties, and definite peri- 
ods of time adjusted to the courses of study. Time and labor 
are both saved, and all labor is made productive. A boy 
having gained the nsual and necessary rudhnents of learning; 
at some seven or eight years of age, enters upon the prepara- 
tory discipline. The whole of this discipline is found in own 
institution — the Gymnasium. Here classes arc graduated, ex- 
tending through some ten 3'ears, embracing what is most 
needful to learn within that time, what experiment has deter- 
mined it is possible to learn, and what philosophically consid- 
ered must constitute the best discipline of the mind up to the 
period of nascent manhood. Here is no arbitrary four years 
course, for a degree of Bachelor of Arts, and no arbitrary 
seven years course for a degree of Master of Arts. These de- 
grees are abolished. In England, the attainment of a degree 
is the object of tLe course. In Germany, the attainment of a 
certain discipline connected with a certain amount of learning 
is the object of the course. The degrees were instituted in 
the scholastic age. They had then a definite meaning — they 
were accredited diplomas of the public teacher. If the num- 
ber of years was graduated to the existing state of knowledge, 
when philology was crude, when science was in its infancy, 
and when scholasticism reigned supreme, with what i3ropriety 
can that number be retained now, when all is changed, and 
we have a new age of letters, science and philosophy ? But 
the graduation had not even this merit; on the contrary it was 
purely mystical. Seven was the sacred number ; hence, seven 
was made to embosom the arts, and to express the years for 
their acquisition. If the mystical number of arts be dip. 



30 

carded, why retain the mystical number of years 1 And we 
may ask, too,why retain the degrees which were the exponents 
of this mystical discipline? 

"Were not the Germans wise, therefore, when scholasticism 
was abolished, in abolishing its times and degrees ? 

Mark the difference ! In the scholastic age, educational 
discipline was determined mystically: in the modern age, it 
is determined by the philosophy of mind, by observation and 
experiment. 

And this course in the German gymnasia has the merit, 
too, of being oj)en to improvement, as the science of peda- 
gogy advances — that science which determines the proper and 
adequate preparations for free and independent study, and 
manly self-discipline. For the increase in the number of 
sciences, for the wider and richer unfolding of the sciences, 
for the farther sweep of all human knowledge, j^i'O vision is 
made in the University. 

"W^e perceive then, that the establishment of the gymnastic 
jjreparatory course has led to the proper development of the 
university. Or taking the actual historical order of develop- 
ment, instead of the logical, the efforts of great and enlight- 
ened scholars to perfect the university, forced the gymnasium 
into existence. See now, how natural and beautiful is the re- 
lation of the two! In the gymnasium the student serves his 
apprenticeship to the art of study. But the art of study is 
gained in the act of studying, that is as knowledge is gained. 
But, again, the branches, by the study of which, the art of 
study is gained, are those which are preparatory to the study 
of all science fully j^rovided for in the university; that is 
of languages, the pure and mixed sciences in their funda- 
mental principles, history, criticism, and of whatever may lie 
at the basis of a superstructure of knowledge in any Held 
open to the human intellect. 

Now entering the university not by presenting a diploma, 

but tlirough the ordeal 6f an examination^ tlie student finHs 

_ himself qualified to read books, to investigate subjects, to list- 



31 

en to learned lectures, to engage in learned discussions, and to 
carry on wisely his education, whether he addict himself to a 
profession, to any particular science, or aim to become 
himself a professor in any of the faculties. In the uni- 
versity the opportunities of study are without limit, and the 
student may be a student all his life. 

"We have remarked that degrees do not wait upon the 
course of study pursued in the gymnasium, although, that 
course embraces all that English and American colleges can 
pretend to. Indeed, according to the most ancient academ- 
ical laws and precedents, the university alone is competent to 
confer degrees. Even in England, where education is resigned 
into the hands of the College, the University alone confers de- 
grees. In Germany the University confers degrees also, but 
sparingly, specially, and never upon whole classes. We have 
already stated that the two degrees of arts are abolished. — 
This may be considered as consequent upon a new division of 
the subjects of study. In the scholastic age, the studies be- 
longing to the three learned professions were termed philoso- 
phies, and all other studies were termed arts. In German v, 
the studies of the learned professions are designated by the 
titles of the three corresponding Faculties — theology, law, 
medicine; and all other studies are comprised under the gen- 
eral title of philosophy, with a corresponding Faculty. 

In philosophy only one degree is conferred — that of Doctor 
of Philosophy. This is conferred upon application by the 
candidate, and after an examination. It has a meaning, since 
he who receives it, is deemed qualified to commence a course 
of lectures in the university. In medicine and law the de- 
gree of Doctor is conferred upon the same conditions and 
implies licre likewise the qualifications and privileges of a 
public lecturer in the respective faculties. Doctor of Theoloijv 
is purely honorary, and is conferred rarely, and only upon 
clergymen of very high distinction. The old academical law 
is thus preserved in the German universities, by which a mas- 
ter or Doctor is entitled, if not obligated to teach. We find 
in these Universities three classes of teachei's: First, the or- 



32 

dinarj and salaried professors; second, the professors extra- 
ordinary, or, as we would say, assistant professors, who re- 
ceive no salary, and depend upon class fees alone; third, the 
mere Doctors in the different faculties who commence lectur- 
ing, and who, also, receive only class fees. These are called 
Docentes or Teachers. 

A German University is, therefore, an association of schol- 
ars for scientific and educational purposes, as truly as the 
scholastic Universities; but as much in advance of the latter, 
as the modern world is in advance of the middle ages in gen- 
eral intelligence and useful improvements. We find here re- 
newed, the freedom, the spirit, the ideal conceptions of the 
Greek schools; we find preserved in full energy the organiza- 
tion of the scholastic Universities; but, in addition to this, 
we find the modern University placed in its proper relation 
as the culmination of a grand system of Education. The good 
of the past is preserved, the evils are eliminated, the imper- 
fections are supplied, and the unity of all true progress is 
demonstrated. 

The third point to be noticed in modern educational develop- 
ment is popular Education. This is a necessary part of the 
educational movement, and must follow the proper university 
development. We have shown how the few great thinkers 
must first appear; how they naturally become the educators 
of their day, and permeate all following times with the quick- 
ening energy of their thoughts. We have shown how natu- 
rally and inevitably learned associations arise from these* 
and grow into educational organizations. It is all a work of 
genius and free thought. It is a light struck from the heart 
of humanity itself. It cannot be isolated, it cannot be con- 
fined; the very law of its existence is that it shall spread it- 
self far and wide. Disciples gathered around the old philos- 
ophers to be taught; they in turn could not but teach others. 
Thousands crowded the halls of the scholastic universities 
drawn by the charm of knowledge, themselves to be gradu- 
ated as teachers; the very condition on which they were 
taught was that they should teach others. Education Laa 



never been confined to rank. The call to thought was 
breathed by the winds, murmured by the streams, scattered 
abroad by the light, written in the beaut}, harmony, and 
glory of creation, and spoken in the inward sense and long- 
ing of the human heart. Education could not begin, without, 
in the end, becoming universal. 

The modern university exemplifies this principle of neces- 
sary diffusion. The university must be supplied from the 
gymnasium; the gymnasium must be supplied from the broad 
and deep reservoir of the peo])le. But a rudimental training 
becomes necessary as a preparation for tlie gymnasium. Here 
then is the necessity of a general rudimental education- 
Then arises a supply of a different kind moving in the op})o- 
site direction — a supply of teachers. The taui^ht must teach, 
or the whole system breaks to pieces. Hence, the university 
supplies teachers not only for itself, but for the gymnasiuui 
also; and the gymnasium must directly or indirectly supply 
teachers for the people. "With the multiplication of educated 
men, entering into all the offices of society, the charm of ed- 
ucation is felt, and its necessity perceived. The genial in- 
Bpiration spreads, and a whole people is pervaded by the 
spirit of education. Popular education is the natural and 
necessary result. 

Compare now the state of popular education in England 
with that in Germany. In England the university syftcm 
has not reached a proper development. Here the tcacliers are 
only the fellows — an elect and exclusive class; while the 
graduates at large instead of feeling the obligation of becom- 
ing teachers in time, and finding a field open for the exercise 
of their vocation, go out into the world as men who are pos- 
sessed of a privilege which belongs to rank and fortune. 
And hence, no system of popular education has, as yet, made 
its appearance here. 

In Clermany on the contrary, vrhere the gymnasium hj, open 

to the poor as Ireely as to the rich, where all who honoablv 

pass through the gymnasium cannot fail of finding access to 

ihe university, and where every educated man becojning a 

o 



34 

member of the great eclueatioual system, incurs the obligation 
as well as meets the demand to contribute by his labors as a 
teacher to its sustentation — there we find a most perfect sys- 
tem of popular education. As every thing in education de- 
pends upon a proper supply of teachers, so there the prim.ary 
or common school is provided for in a distinct institution — 
the Seminary or Normal School; while this again is supplied 
with instructors from the university and gymnasium. 

The grand result may be stated in a few words — ^every in. 
dividual of the people receives at least a rudimental education, 
and the highest forms of education are possible to all, with- 
out distinction of rank and fortune. 

We have thus, in pursuing the course of educational devel- 
opment, been led to the German, or as it is more commonly 
called, the Prussian System, its highest, and most perfect rep- 
resentative in modern times. We have been led to this inev- 
itably. It is not the opinion of an individual, or of a class; 
it is the conclusion of a demonstration; or rather, it is an 
obvious fact, which only the grossest ignorance or the most 
stupid prejudice could presume to deny. The wisest philoso- 
phers, and the greatest educators have united in commending 
this system. Were it necessary to appeal to authority, 1 
might mention two names, than which none can be found 
more illustrious fur intellect and learning, or more devoted to 
the great cause of education and civilization. I refer to Cou- 
sin of France, and Hamilton of Scotland. The first while 
minister of Public Instruction was sent on a special missior; 
to Prussia to examine and report upon its system of educa- 
tion. That report was received with universal approbation in 
Europe and America. It held np the Prussian System as 
the most perfect in the world. Through its influence impor- 
tant changes were introduced into the system of public educa- 
tion in France. Iso part of it was more commended than that 
which relates to popular education. Hamilton reviewed this 
Peport in the Edinburgh Peview. " The institutions of Ger- 
many, for public instruction,'' he remarks, "we have long 
known and admired. We saw these institutions accomplish- 



35 

ing their end to an extent and in a degree elsewhere nnex- 
ampled ; and were convinced that if other nations attempted 
an improvement of their educational policj, this could only 
be accomplished rapidly, surely, and effectually, by adopting, 
as far as circumstances would permit, a system thus approved 
by an extensive experience, and the most memorable success." 
After commending Cousin as " a pliilosoper superior to all 
the prejudices of age or country, party or profession," and 
" from his universality, both of thought and acquirement, the 
man in France able adequately to determine what a scheme 
of national education ought in theory to accomplish; and 
from his familiarity with German literature and philosophy, 
prepared to appreciate in all its bearings, what the German 
national education actually performs," he adds, " from the 
first page of his Report to the last, there is not a statement 
nor opinion of any moment in which we do not fully and cor- 
dially agree." " The Report," he continues, " was published 
in defiance of national self-love, and the strongest national 
antipathies, it carried conviction throughout France; a bill 
framed by its author for primary education, and founded on 
its conclusions, was almost immediately passed into a law; 
and M. Cousin himself appointed to w^atch over and direct its 
execution. JSTor could the philosopher have been entrusted 
with a more congenial office; for, in the language of his own 
Plato, — " Man cannot propose a higher and holier object for 
his study, than education, and all that pertains to education." 
The benefit of his legislation cannot indeed, be limited to 
France; a great example has there been set, which must ])e 
elsewhere followed; and other nations than his own will bless 
the philosopher for their intelligent existence. " JuventuteTn 
recte formare^'' says Melancthon, '•'' ■]yaido jylus est quam 
exjmgnare Tnjmnj'''' and to carry back the education oi 
Prussia into France,afibrds a nobler — if a bloodless triumph — 
there the trophies of Austerlitz and Jena." 

It is now more than twenty years since Sir "William Hamilton 
attacked the English universities, exposed their deterioration 
and defects.and called aloud or reform. His clear statement of 



3G 

facts,bls conclusive logic. Lis tremendous grj-casm, and his elo" 
quent protests, could not wholly fail even with a people as im 
niovaljle as the English; but still, it must be confessed of them 
that they are prone in more senses than one to attempt to 
enter Eussia by Constantinople rather than by Warsav,-; 
and that when once they have adopted a plan they wovild 
rather make their graves at Sevastopol than change it. 

Having traced the progress of educational development to 
modern Europe, we cannot, v/ith propriety, omit to take a 
glance at our own country, in order to determine our place in 
the great movement. 

I have heard the remark made that education in our coun- 
try is quite peculiar, and is strictly an American system, and 
that all our efforts ought to be bont to develope and perfect it 
as an American system, independently of precedents. This 
all sounds very well, and will serve to point the harangue 
of a demagogue who has some end of his own to accomplish. 
But has it an y rational and definite signification ? One of 
our aborigines might talk quite consistently and intelligibly 
of an Americaii system of education, and might point to a 
training in the use of the bow for v^'ar, and for hunting the 
deer and the buffalo, and to wigwam discipline. The Chinese, 
the Hindoo, and the Hottentot might also each claim a system 
peculiar to his country. But of the nations who lie within 
the stream of European and Christian civilization, how is it 
possible for any one to claim independence of the past, whether 
in science and letters, in arts, in religion, in government, or 
in education! Are not the roots of modern Europe spread 
through the past, and are not we an outgrowth of modern 
Europe ? The men who first settled this country came from 
Europe, with thouglits which they had thought there, with 
principles which they had gained there, and to plant here in- 
stitutions which had sprung up there: escaping, it may be, 
from impediments, persecution, and oppression, wliich at the 
time were in the ascendant there, to find here a fairer climate 
and a more genial soil, and to breathe a purer air of freedom; 
but, Europeans, nevertheless, with European ideas, and ideas 



37 

too running back twenty centuries, the golden and imperish- 
nble links of thought binding together the past, present, and 
future. 

Our science, our arts, our literature, with one consent we 
give them a European origin. Our religion, the forms of our 
worship, the very denominations into which we are divided — 
these are European also. The spirit of our constitution is 
found in the English constitution. Our representative gov- 
ernment, if more perfect, still symbolizes with that of Eog- 
land. Our common law is the common lav*' of England. 
The very union of our States was preceded by the union of 
States in Holland. 

Is it in education tlien that we are purely original ? Is 
there nothing here of foreign origin? Let us sec. 

The first institution of learning in our country was founded 
at Cambridge in Massachusetts. It Vv^as founded by men who 
had been educated in the English universities. After this, 
other institutions were founded in diflerent parts of our coun- 
try, such as Yale College in New Haven, and Is'assau Hall, 
or New Jersey College, in Princeton. Confessedly they a.ro 
all after the same model. This is true in general of all the 
colleges which have at different times been established in our 
country. Who does not see that they are essentially a re-pro- 
duction of the English colleges ? They have their head mas- 
ter, or President; originally they were taught chiefly by tutors, 
and some still retain this feature; they all have the four un- 
der graduate classes with the same names, the annual com- 
mencement ceremonies, and the academical degrees of Bache- 
lor and Master of Arts. 

Again, the English colleges are connected with the univer- 
sity which confers the degrees upon their graduates. So all 
the American colleges have at least, one of the university fac- 
ulties^that of arts; and some, like Yale and Harvard, have 
even four faculties; and they all exercise the university func- 
tion of conferring degrees. Those with four faculties ought to 
be regarded as universities, after the English or scholastic 
model. Those with one faculty are partial universities. Here, 



38 

however, we present an anomaly, inasmuch as institutions 
which have only the Faculty of Arts, confer degrees in all the 
other faculties. Our colleges are therefore English colleges 
modified to suit peculiar circumstances. Indeed they may be 
regarded as a return to the scholastic colleges of France, where 
the university Ijecame distributed into colleges, as we have 
already pointed out. In this respect they are improvements 
upon the English colleges, and have really advanced one step 
from the retrogradation of the latter. Where they have sub- 
stituted, entirely, instruction by university faculties for instruc- 
tion by tutors, they have advanced well nigh to a strict con- 
formity to the old French colleges. 

Our collegiate system, therefore, where it is not strictly 
English is still strictly European; and it must be confessed 
copies closely the degenerate period of the scholastic age. 

Closely allied to the college in our country is the academy, 
which is preparatory to it, and indeed, niay even be considered 
a part of it, since one or more years of the college course may 
be pursued at the academy. The idea of our academies is 
borrowed from English schools like those of Eton and "Win- 
chester. 

The superior intelligence of the men who laid the founda- 
tion of our institutions, the early establishment of seminaries 
of learning, the active intelligence of a free people, the neces- 
sity of education felt by all where the responsibility of politi- 
cal power is shared by all, lave together led to a system of 
popular education which is both the safeguard of our liberties, 
and our glory as a nation. In popular education we symbol- 
ize most closely with Germany. 

In perfecting this system, as well as in efibrts to arrive at a 
more rational development of our higher institutions, we are be- 
ginning to feel the influence of a people who beyond all others 
have reduced education to a science, and to whom we must 
yield the honor of being the proper representatives of modern 
educational development. From them we have already bor- 
rowed the Normal school — the only effectual means of per- 
fecting the primary school. But the Normal school itself 



89 

cannot be perfected without the gymnasium and university. 
Their entire systeoi is one compact organism, where each part 
can do well its proper work, only, by a union and co-working 
of all the parts. The logical order of educational develop- 
ment is, of course, from the lower schools to the higher — the 
lower expanding, flowing into the higher. But the historical 
order ever has been, ever must be from the higher to the low- 
er — the higher calling the lower into existence, or where other 
causes as in our own country have contributed to produce 
them, the higher perfecting the lower. This has been abun- 
dantly illustrated from the ancient schools to the present time. 
A whole people in a state of ignorance never spontaneously 
move npward to the level of rudimental education. Sponta- 
neous movement is in individual minds; and small associa- 
tions in the higher spheres of thought are first formed. From 
them education spreads, and flows downward, until a universal 
rudimental education is attained, which then becomes the log- 
ical basis of the whole educational system. 

And if we were to suppose a whole people in a state of ig- 
norance, by a spontaneous movement, to make a demand for 
education, it would be necessary, first of all, to seek for teach- 
ers to impart the rudiments of learning. But these teachers 
would imply a still higher order of teachers; and so on, until 
we should arrive at the few only who by extraordinary genius 
and energy had attained to self-culture, and by discoveries in 
science logically reduced, and literary productions, had pre- 
pared the materials and instruments of education. 

Progress in kuov/ledge and progress in education must ever 
run parallel to each other. And as a jDroper arrangement and 
presentation of the elements of any science presumes its high- 
er development, so the proper constitution of schools for ele- 
mentary education presumes the existence of institutions where 
education culminates. 

In order, therefore, to perfect all degrees of knowledge, we 
must aim at the completest unlblding of every branch of 
knowledge; tor example, to perfect agricultural science, we 
must perfect chemJcal science, and to perfect nautical science, 



40 

we must perfect astronomical science, and to perfect this, "we 
need the highest mathematical science. 

Things with which we are quite familiar, and which we aro 
accustomed to call very simple, have their explanation in the 
profoundest depths of science, and arise from the subtlest 
causes: like the water which we dip up from the spring, whiclx 
was collected irom the ocean, dropped from the clouds, perco- 
lated through tlie bosom of the mountain, and wound itsi 
course through many a hidden channel. And, so also, the 
lowest degrees of education require somewhere the highest 
forms of culture. Our spelling-book contains the words of n 
cultivated language — the language in which Shakspeare and 
Milton wrote. Our simplest arithmetic is founded upon ratio ; 
proportion, and equation. The common knowledge of thy 
earth and skies, now taught to children, required the geniuS 
of a IsTewton, a La Place, a Davy, a Liebig. There is no 
vulgar and puerile truth, for all truth has a divine source. 
The angels Vv'ho look upon the face of God are the guardian^ 
of infants; and tlie knowledge of the Infinite is necessary to 
guide us in oar simplest duties. 

The great principle of all knowledge lies in the possibility 
of the highest knowledge: The great principle of all educa- 
tion lies in the possibility of the highest education. 

Any people or state, therefore, who would have a perfect 
system of education, must bend their endeavors to the devel- 
opment of the highest institutions of learning. 

We have seen how the colleges and universities of our 
country have grown from European institutions. But it must 
be acknowledged, that we have not squared ourselves yet to tho 
highest forms and degrees of European development. Our 
system belongs to the scholastic age, rather than to the mod- 
ern. 

We have, indeed, received ideas belonging to the modern 
age, and we are making attempts to apply them in the im- 
provement of our institutions. But these attempts have not, 
yet brought about one harmonious system, but rather a mix- 
ture of opposite systems. 



41 

In the New England States we find a number of colleges 
all independent of each other; with one or two excep- 
tions, disconnected with the State; with one or more fac- 
ulties; and all following the English model or the French 
scholastic colleges in their general organization. Brown Uni' 
versity is an exception in part. 

In the State of New York all the colleges are embraced by 
a central organization, cnlled the University of the State of 
New York, consisting of a Board of Regents presided over 
by a Chancellor. The control which this board exercises how- 
ever, is very slight, and the several colleges appear to enjoy 
equal independence with the colleges of other States. They 
make annual reports, which are embodied in the Report of 
the Regents. Then in the city of New York there is a uni- 
versity, so called, with two faculties organized, and the power 
of organizing another, subject also to the Regents of the State, 
and constituted under a board of Councillors with a Chan- 
cellor. The State organization is copied after the English, at 
Cambridge and Oxford, although varying from it in several 
respects; while the organization of the city university is cop- 
ied after that of London. 

In Rochester there is a university of two faculties, witli 
both a President and a Chancellor. In "Wisconsin there is a 
university with one faculty, organized under a Board of Re- 
gents and a Chancellor. The other colleges and universities 
of the country copy generally the New England colleges, with 
the exception of the University of Virginia, and Brown Uni- 
versity. Of our own university I shall speak separately. 
The degrees are granted in the last two after a certain amount of 
study, but the students are allowed to select their courses with 
great freedom. These institutions, in this respect, conform to 
the University of Edinburgh. 

But while the English models are in general followed in our 
country, the indications are very decisive that the influence 
of the German universities has not been unfelt. This appears 
in the additional schools which have been introduced, such as 
the Lawrence Scientific School ia Harvard, and ths Philosoph- 



42 

ical department, and the schools of Civil Engineering and 
Agriculture in Yale College, and in the university course lately 
established in Union College, on the fund created and dona- 
ted by President ]S"ott. 

We perceive in all this, attempts to advance beyond the 
English colleges, and to bring in something of the German 
amplitude and freedom. 

In proceeding to consider the system of public instruction 
in our own State, we must admit at once that we have here also 
a mixture of systems. I have on a former occasion spoken on 
this subject so fully, that a brief view will here suffice. 

The Board of Kegents, the different faculties, the four years 
course, the annual commencement, the two degrees in arts — 
all belong to the English and scholastic institutions. The 
presiding officer of the Board of Regents is also the chief 
executive officer of the institution, and the president of all the 
faculties. This is according to the English university, or scho- 
lastic system, also. 

On the Continent the title of this officer is Rector: In 
England it is Chancellor; but the executive functions are dis- 
charged by a Vice-Chancellor. In our country wherever a 
board of Regents has been constituted, the English precedent 
has been followed, unless our own State be an exception. 

So far, then we have embraced in our system, in common 
with the institutions of our country, English and scholastic 
elements. But there are others of a different character. 

Throughout the legislation of our State on the subject of 
education, in the plans of education drawn wp by our wisest 
and best men, in our constitutional provisions, and in the 
forms of institutions which have been attempted, or which 
have attained a permanent existence, we find the Prussian 
system announced as a model, and more or less developed. 
Our primary schools, our Normal school, our superintend- 
ent of public instruction are directly copied from Prussia. 
Again, when the university was first established, there were 
e&tabiished along with it certain schools which were called 



43 

branches of the uoiversitj. These were preparatory to the 
university, and were evidently copied from the German gym- 
nasimn. 

Their title was a misnomer. A university can have no 
branches, unless we so designate its faculties. A university 
is a compact association of learned men incorporated and ex- 
isting in one place. To distribute it into branches planted in 
different places, would prove as incompatible with its offices 
as to scatter abroad a legislative assembly, and would, in fact, 
destroy it. 

A university may attemj^t to distribute itself into colleges, 
but then the colleges must be collected in one place, where all 
the materials of learning may be concentrated, and where the 
faculties may have convenient access to them. Any other ar- 
rangement would beget the necessity of multiplying faculties 
with libraries and apparatus, and would really issue in the 
creation of many distinct institutions of the same kind. Be- 
sides, we have proved that colleges do not legitimately com- 
pose a university, that they destroyed the integrity of the 
French universities, and superseded the English with institu- 
tions of a very inferior grade. 

But laying aside the title of branches, we see in these in- 
stitutions a worthy attempt to create that system of gymna- 
sia essential to a well ordered system of education, and 
without which universities cannot reach their full proportions 
and efficiency. 

It was unfortunate that the plan could not have been prop- 
ei'ly digested and carried out. To place them upon the uni- 
versity fund was suicidal of the whole undertaking: for they 
only diminished a nutriment which can never be sufficient for 
both, without deriving an adequate supply for their own exis- 
tence. 

The Union schools which have since arisen are but another 
expression of the same idea — the idea of taking pupils who 
have received the first rudiments of learning at the primary 
school, and inducting them into a system of regular training, 
based on the constitution of the human mind, and the natural 



u 

order of the growth and unfolding of its faculties; and on the 
nature of different studies as ministering to this growth, and 
forming a philosophical discipline of the faculties graduated 
to this order; so that, from childhood to adolescence, and from 
adolescence to budding manhood, the mind shall be led along 
genially and cheerfully, to any point of education less than 
the full course, or, by completing the course, to a preparation 
for the university. This is the true gymnastic course — the 
course which Michigan has been aiming at in her intermedi- 
ate schools, and which it may be her high destiny finally to 
mature and bring into full operation. Whatever these schools 
may cost, the State has no higher interest than their perfect 
constitution and develojnuent. They will afford the possibil- 
ity of education as widely and freely as the common schools, 
but it will be the possibility of a higher education, consistently 
and harmoniously ordered, iNow, a vast amount of time is 
lost in childhood and youth for the want of early opportuni- 
ties of educational training; and young men who propose to 
enter the higher institutions of learning, have either to suffer 
the loss of knowledge which ought to have been acquired long 
before, or are compelled by spasmodic efforts, often ruinous to 
the health, aud injurious to the mind itself, to make up, and 
that in an imperfect manner, the deficiencies of early life. 
Conceive of a gymnasium open to you from childhood. At 
twelve years of age you have acquired French, have overcome 
the difliculties of the Latin, and begin to feel the charms of 
its literature, and are grounded in arithmetic, geography, 
drawing, and music: At fifteen you are reading Greek and 
German with pleasure, and have acquired the elements of 
mathematics, and a general knowledge of history: And at 
eighteen or nineteen — instead of beginning to prepare for col- 
lege, as many now do, tortured by the Latin and Greek gram- 
mars, and in the haste inspired by the consciousness that you 
are almost men — you find yourselves in the easy and almost 
natural command of languages and the principles of science, 
with the habits of a scholar thoroughly matured, and the art 
of study mastered, and ready to step into the university as an 



45 

inviting field of knowledge, -vvliere every thing is prepared to 
your hand, and where you feel prepared to put your hand to 
every thing, with the skill of one y»'ho having thoroughly 
learned his trade is never embarrassed in handling his tools. 

Ye who know by hard experience the want of all this, sym- 
pathize with those who are to come after you, and in the true 
spirit of literary association, determine unitedly to labor for 
the elevation and perfection of the institutions of your coun- 
try ! 

The proper constitution of these schools, by whatever name 
they are designated, will require great wisdom, great care, 
great energy, and a supply of teachers who know how to do 
their work. 

Where shall we find these teachers? The I^crmal schools 
cannot supply them, for they are designed to supply teachers 
for the primary schools — a great and important work, embra- 
cing what we have called the logical basis of the whole sys- 
tem of public instruction. Or they can supply them only to 
a limited extent, and in the more juvenile classes. The Uni- 
versity alone can supply teachers for the gymnastic schools. 
In Germany you will find university-educated men giving in- 
struction in arithmetic and geography; masters of their sub- 
jects, they instruct without text books, and fill their class- 
rooms with the vivacity and charm of oral communication, 
and keep the interest of their pupils alive by the necessity of 
prompt answers to unexpected questions. 

And here rises up to view, again, the great princi^^le I have 
expounded and illustrated throughout this discourse, that in 
the historical order of development the highest institutions 
come first. Without a perfected university, we can never 
have a perfected system of public education, even in the low- 
est degrees; and as it has been, so must it ever be, that pop- 
ular education must flow out of the higher institutions, as the 
Bhowers that water the valleys and plains fall from clouds 
Avhich w^ere gathered on the mountains. 

The university, the gymnasium, the ISTormal schools, the 
primary schools, once started into existence, must move on 



46 

together. Each is necessary to the whole, and the prosperity 
of each contributes to the prosperity of the whole. Nothing 
but sheer sciolism or utter ignorance can conceive of any op- 
position between them; and none but an empiric in education, 
or a traitor to its cause, can aim to aid one by the sacrifice of 
any of the others. Education is like a garden of trees, where 
some are just sj)ringing from the earth, some have attained a 
young growth, some are beginning to tower aloft in nascent 
form, beauty and strength, while others have reached a mature 
and majestic growth, and are bearing seeds and scattering 
them far and wide. There can be no great trees, unless there 
are first the little sprouts shooting through the soil, but the 
great trees sow the seeds which perpetuate the kind. 

The University of Michigan is not yet a proper university, 
even in form. Full grown it cannot be, but why not give it 
a proper form ? 

The history of this university is in every respect honorable 
to those who have created it, to those who have fostered and 
conducted it. I have no fault to find with Regents, faculties, 
patrons and friends. I shall not even find fault with enemies, 
for they too have helped it along. It is like a plant which 
the sun shone upon, and the dew and the rains watered, and 
it grew: and then there came an earthquake, and many 
feared that its stem was broken, or that the earth had swal- 
lowed it up: but when the convulsion had ceased, it was found 
there still, growing mor^ luxuriantly, and becoming more 
beautiful than ever; the earthquake had only shattered some 
rocks about its roots which enabled them to spread wide and 
free, and opened a living spring by its side which ever after- 
wards kept it fresh and green. 

"No institution of learning in this country, in the same time, 
has grown so rapidly. Let any one look into the histories of 
our colleges and universities, and he will find this to be the 
fact. 

Founded upon a fund created by the bounty of the General 
Government, it has cost the State nothing. Enlightened and 
good men were its founders, and the good and true hearts of 



47 

the State have ever gathered around it. Past legislation has 
not done much for it. There are facts which would indicate 
that past legislation has even impaired its fund. 

But, more recently, legislation has been directed toward its 
interests. We may now begin to hope that the State will 
cherish its own institution, and be a sun and shield to it. In 
some quarters there is a disposition to build up separate sec- 
tarian colleges. Sects, undoubtedly, have a right to do this. 
But, it appears to me a subject of regret, whether it take place 
in our State, or in other States. There was a time when, per- 
haps, it was unavoidable; but where a great central State in- 
stitution exists, or can be created, it is the true policy for all 
sects and parties to rally around it. 

"We can see no good reason why the State which creates and 
fosters a system of primary schools, should not also create 
and foster the higher institutions of learning, with the single 
exception of theological institutions. If the lower grade of 
education be taken under the patronage of the State, why 
should not the higher grades also ? It is an abuse of lar- 
guage to apply the term _2>(^j)f?Z«r, only, to the lower grade of 
education. Why not make the whole system of education, 
from the primary schools to the university, j^ojjular^ in the 
sense of laying all open to the people, so that every man may, 
if he please, attain to the most perfect education ? This ac- 
cords with the true idea of democratical institutions; and this 
idea has already made its mark upon the educational system 
of Michigan. 

There are, perhaps, no parts of our country better adapted 
to the creation of universities, according to the true idea, than 
the State of Michigan and the city of Kew York. I may, at 
least, be permitted to speak of these, more particularly, be- 
cause I am better acquainted with them. 

The State of Michigan has already an institution wljich is 
making some progress towards the realization of the true idea, 
and is capable of realizing it completely. What she now 
needs, most of all, is the establishment of intermediate insti- 
tutioDB or gymnasia. If she takes the two extreme grades — 



48 



the primary schools together with the Normal school, and the 
university under her patronage and direction, why not take 
the intermediate grade also ? Now, the university, of neces- 
sity, is, for the most ]3art, a gymnasium. Were gymnasia 
established in all the principal places, then students would be 
prepared for the university course, and the university nnght 
be fully developed. Nothing is wanting for this but funds 
for the endowment of gymnasia, and to complete the endow- 
ment of the university. These funds might be provided from 
the Swamp Lands. Michigan has the advantage of having a 
system marked out, and, already, in part, developed. She is 
also in the freshness of her youth, and is less trammelled by 
precedents and usage than older States. 

The city of New York has an admirable system of public 
schools, and is connecting with this Normal school instruc- 
tion. It has also established one institution — the Free Acade- 
my — which symbolizes very much with the gymnasium. It 
requires, only, a greater term of years, embracing pupils 
younger than those now admitted, and an extension of its 
course of study upwards, in order to become a gymnasium 
complete. The city of New York might multiply these insti- 
tutions. Berlin, a smaller city than New York, has seven 
gymnasia, containing over three thousand pupils. "Why 
should New York have less ? The two colleges at present ex- 
isting in New York might also become gymnasia. Or divid- 
ing their organization, they might each have a gymnasium, 
and in their faculties become connected with a common uni- 
versity. 

A university might be established in New York by the city 
itself. If the city establish the other grades of education, why 
not establsh tlie highest ? 

Or, a university might be established by private subscrip- 
tion. 

In either case, there is one obstacle which New York can 
never experience, and that is the want of the requisite funds. 
A city of such enormous wealth and of such la\'ish expend- 



49 

iture in so many directions, can never plead the want of 
means for the great purpose of public education. 

Science and letters have no natural alliance with sects in re- 
ligion, or parties in politics, but offer a common ground where 
all elevated minds, and the true friends of human improve- 
ment may fraternize and pursue a common end. Sectarian 
colleges remind us of the Cathedral and Conventual schools. 
A great university, common to all, recalls the freedom and 
academic charm of the ancient classic schools, and advances 
our educational system to the dignity and efficiency claimed 
by the modern age of educational development. Instead of 
the numerous imperfect colleges scattered through the United 
States, how noble that organization would appear, which 
should give to each State agreat central auiversity with depend- 
ent gymnasia planted in, at least, all the principal places ! 

But to accomplish this, we must, first of all, imbibe the 
true idea of a university, and begin to adopt the proper forui. 

I have said that the University of Michigan has not reached 
tlie proper form. Indeed, where do we find the proper form 
in our country? 

What means this four years course for the first degree, and 
then three years more for the second degree ? Surely there 
is nothing American in this — there is nothing even modem 
in it. No one doubts that it is altogether scholastic — the 
mystic number of years retained which was once graduated 
t» a mystic number of arts ! How fond we are of this mys- 
tic number. We give it not merely to all our colleges; we 
are giving it to all our schools above the common school grade. 
We have every where our four classes, our commencements, 
and graduations. We are multiplying cur Bachelors and 
Masters on all sides. Are we not even dreaming of re-build- 
ing the Parthenon, and restoring the image made by the hand 
of Phidias ? "The fond idolators of old " deified beauty and 
wisdom under difforent forms; but we will deifv all our beaut v 
under the form of wisdom, and we will place our new god- 
dess in our new Parthenon under the august title of Mistress 
of Arts? 

4 



50 

Is there any thing in the nature and compass of science and 
letters,which demands that in order to gain a sufficient knowl- 
edge of them to qualify us to begin to teach them, and to gain 
a very perfect knowledge of them so that we may teach them 
like masters, we must distribute them first nnder a four years 
course, and then under a three ? And although we may have 
seventy arts where the scholastics had seven, is the mystic 
number like the fairy tent, usually folded up like a fan, but 
when the occasion required, capable of being expanded so as 
shelter a whole army? 

This blind devotion to a mystic number, this implicit obe- 
dience to a rule derived from a period which we are accus- 
tomed, in other relations, to call the dark ages, is a most ex- 
traordinary fact in the history of education. Its influence has 
been disastrous. It is this which has led us, as the number of 
our sciences has still increased and each science expanded, as 
history has still grown, and literature multiplied, to crush 
them all within a Procrustean bed and reduce them to an in- 
variable dimension. Thus has education become superficial 
in proportion as it has become pretentious; and the true idea 
of education as a discipline of the faculties has been lost sight 
of in the attainment of a degree, which means less in propor- 
tion as it attempts to represent more. 

Why not, then, abolish this system and establish a real uni- 
versity ? Will it be said that we cannot find a sufficient num- 
ber of students prepared or willing to enter a proper univer- 
sity? The very objection implies the poverty of our disci- 
pline, and is an acknowledgment that we neither bestow a 
high culture, nor awaken an enthusiasm for learning. The 
greater the need, then, of attempting something better. 
" Do you ask what I propose? I reply: — Let the leading in- 
stitutions of our country, and our own among the number, 
strike out boldly into the true university discipline. Let them 
each become a proper university, and each establish by its 
own side a proper gymnasium. Models would thus be crea- 
ted. Each would furnish a supply of students for itself in the 
first instance. Students too would spring up from oth^ 



51 

sources, for such a movement would awaken an enthusiasm 
now undreamed of. Nor would the period of educational dis- 
cipline be extended beyond its present limit: but appropria- 
ting the early years of life, and introducing a consecutive 
gradation, we should really gain education where we now 
gain a degree, and exchange the title of master for the deep 
consciousness of knowledge and culture. 

Then would a new era of education and of institutions of 
learning in our country, be ushered in. With us, too, the 
spirit of the old Greek schools would be wedded to modern 
science, arts, and civilization, and they would represent the 
blushing morning, and we the meridian splendor of the same 
day. 

All literary association, all educational development began 
with the ancient schpols: all literary association, all educa- 
tional development, in our day, flow from university organi- 
zation. This is the great fact. The societies whose members 
I now address are another illustration of this fact. 

Gentlemen ! remember the high origin of your associations. 
Most noble and ancient is their ancestry: and in the long de- 
scent appear the names of the great and good, whose path 
through the ages is a path of light, and whose lives make up 
all that is most valuable in history, and most worthy to be 
remembered. Imitate those who have gone before you, by a 
noble and generous devotion to letters and arts. The very 
names you bear, you have borrowed from the old Greeks. 
Live up to the significancy of those names. Be ins23ired by 
the Attic spirit of philosophic truth and ideal beauty. Seize 
boldly also upon the modern idea of educational development. 
Be yourselves an illustration of the identity which reigns 
throughout; and one of the freshest and most unexceptiona- 
ble examples of the True, the Good, and the Beautiful, perpet- 
uated by the association of scholars. 



BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE 



COllCEli OF THE OMmRSin 



rl~tJTGlES 2*7, 1850.. 



BACCALAUREATE. 



Gentlemen — Graduates of the Univeksfty of Michigan : 
In the discourse which I liad the honor to deliver before 
the Literary Societies, on Monday evening last, I attempted 
a sketch of the progress of Educational Development. I then 
pointed out the origin and the meaning of the degrees which 
have been conferred to-day. 

In the ancient schools there were no academical degrees; 
they had their origin in the university organization which 
arose in the last centuries of the middle ages. The university 
was an association of learned men for the purposes of scien- 
tific advancement and of education. Graduation was intended 
both to mark the progress of the pupils, and to be a form of 
receiving them as members of the university association. 
For, you will recollect, that this association was composed 
altogether of graduates, and that the full graduate or master 
was then, also, a Doctor, a Regent, and a Professor. The 
graduate of the first degree or Bachelor of Arts, commenced 
his novitiate as a teacher — a novitiate which extended through 
three years, and until he took his second degree and became 
a member of the university association in full. 

In England and America, and to some extent in France, 
the old forms and titles have been continued. In Germany, 
which we take as the true representative of the modern edu- 
cational development, the forms and titles are changed while 
the thing remains, but more elevated and perfect. Here that 
portion of the discipline which was necessary to a Bachelor's 



4 

degree in the old universities, is consigned to a distinct insti- 
tution — the gymnasiwm. The completion of this is marked 
by no degree, although those who have passed, through the 
gymnasium sometimes begiii immediately to teach, in the pri- 
mary and Normal schools. In the university, the degree of 
Doctor of Philosophy, is conferred, and this denotes in the 
modern, what the degree of Master of Arts denoted in the 
old universities. 

The German universities in spirit and in fact are the only 
modern institutions which closely conform to all that was truly 
excellent and significant in the institution of degrees; for in 
them the Doctors of Philosophy, Law, and Medicine receive 
with their diplomas the right to be admitted as lecturers in 
their several faculties. The distinction, too, between teachers 
of the first and second degree is rirtually kept up: for, al- 
though none but a full graduate or Doctor is allowed to teach, 
at all, in the university; still, he hegins to teach among the 
Docentes or unsalaried lecturers. He attains his highest de- 
gree as a teacher when he is received among the full and sal- 
aried professors. The extraordinary or assistant professor oc- 
cupies an intermediate grade in the passage from the Docentes 
to the Professors. Hence, we find in the German universities 
a more numerous body of instructors than in any other mod- 
ern institutions of learning. In this respect, also, they sym- 
bolize with the old universities. Thus, in Berlin, for example, 
in 1850, there were one hundred and sixty-five instructors; of 
whom, sixty-two w^ere full professors, forty-four professors ex- 
traordinary, and fifty-nine Docentes or Doctors simply. 

"Were we prepared, therefore, to carry out with respect to 
ourselves the modern university development, you perceive 
that graduation would not cease. 

One thing however, cannot be denied; — that whether we 
regard ourselves as belonging to the form of organization which 
began in the middle ages, or feel inclined to take our place 
among modern institutions, we can consistently give but one 
interpretation to graduation: — to graduate is to take our place 
among teachers ; to graduate in the first degree is to enter 



Tjpon our novitiate as teachers ; — to graduate in the second 
degree is to complete that novitiate and to become teachers in 
full — teachers under the university organization. 

I am well aware that in entering the university association 
of teachers, it is neither possible in itself, nor expected of you 
on the part of the university, whether you are graduates of 
the first or second degree, that you shall all become profess- 
ional teachers. This never has taken place, and never can 
take place ; for your services are required, also, in other de- 
partments of life. But, nevertheless, let it not be forgotten 
that you are members of this association. As such, it is in- 
cumbent upon you to take a lively and peculiar interest in 
the great cause of education, and to promote it by every 
means in your power. And in connection with this general 
duty, I am sure you will not be disposed to deny, that a duty 
rests upon you, in particular, in reference to the university of 
which you now are members, and ever must be, while you re- 
tain your ^diplomas. You have here, too, the consolation of 
reflecting that no conflict of duties can possibly arise. Every 
great cause is best sustained by each one faithfully doing his 
duty in his place — in his own particular relation. Besides, 
their is no way in which education can be more effectually 
advanced than by carrying out our universities to the highest 
degree of perfection. These are the great lakes from whence 
the clouds are formed which fall in fertilizing showers ; — the 
parents of streams which meander far and wide ; — the foun- 
tains of rivers which flow through mighty regions bestowing 
beauty and richness along their banks, and uniting the inter- 
ests of distant places. The manifold benefits — the proud dis- 
tinction which great institutions of learning bestow upon the 
countries and States to which they belong, nay, the benefits 
which they bestow upon other countries and States, is a mat- 
ter of ordinary history with which every one is familiar. The 
moment the idea is suggested, do not the universities of Paris, 
Berlin, Munich, Oxford, Edinburgh, and others like them, rise 
up before us — seats of the Muses, centres of learning redo- 
lent with glorious memories ? And in our own country, do 



we not think of Harvard and Yale and other institutions, as 
distinguishing not onlj the States to which they belong, but 
as an honor to the whole country ? 

Now, could we rear up in Michigan, another Harvard or 
Yale, or better still, another university of Paris, or Munich, 
or Berlin, would it not be a title of honor for the State to be 
proud of, a pablic good which would invigorate our whole 
system of education, and scatter its influence throughout the 
whole North-West, nay throughout our Countr}', and give 
our State a pre-eminence which it could gain from nothing 
else? 

A hundred imperfect and feeble institutions would achieve 
comparatively little, and leave us as unnoticed as other States 
which possess them ; while, one university of the true form, 
and fully appointed with professors and the material of learn- 
ing would tell mightily upon our destiny, and fasten the eyes 
of the world upon us. 

When I was last in New York, a Professor of Astronomy 
called my attention to a paper, he had just received, issued at 
the Observatory in Berlin, in which the old Astronomer 
Encke had published certain calculations made by the direc- 
tor of the Detroit Observatory at Ann Arbor. The New 
York Professor, at the same time, remarked, " Ann Arbor 
will soon become as well known, throughout the world, as 
Pulkova, Berlin, Greenwich, and the other great Observa- 
tories." 

Indeed, such is the natural course of things. It is the truly 
good and perfect, which grows in the estimation of the world, 
attains a permanent existence, and proves an exhaustless ben- 
fit, an imperishable value. Other things may have their day, 
but sooner or later must die away, for mankind have no in- 
terest in preserving them. The vicar of Wakefield will sur. 
vive when a thousand novels now eagerly read will be forgot- 
ten. One play of Shakspeare has more immortality in it 
than all the collected volumes of Penny-a-liners since the 
time of Cadmus. The Battle at Bunker Hill is worth more 
than the wars of Alexander, Csesar, and Napoleon. The 



death of Socrates was more heroic and contained a srreater 
truth than the lives of a thousand Kings and Emperors. — 
One Kaih-oad is worth more than all the roads that were ever 
made through bogs and over hills — yea, than the old Eoman 
roads. James Watt is worth more than a whole generation 
of ordinary men. Whose name would you rather have in 
history, that of Prince Metternich or of Kossuth ? Which 
would you rather have the merit of, the taking of Sevastopol, 
or the invention of the electric telegraph ? N"ay, to come 
nearer home, is it not more honorable to give that noble 
Transit Circle to our observatory, than like Eothschild to 
manage the loans of Europe ? Let us strive then for the 
good and perfect in all things. 

Graduates of the university of Michigan, and hence, mem- 
bers of the university itself! Let us try what we can do to 
perfect one institution. Wherever you can exert influence, 
whatever aid you can afford, whatever work you can do, shun 
it not ; — we are laboring for humanity, and for the genera- 
tions to come. 

But, on the present occasion, I am called, not so much, to 
address the graduates at large, as the present graduating 
class. 

Young Gentlemen ! as we have said, you now commence 
your novitiate for admission into the university association of 
teachers. In this, it is imj)lied that you enter upon a new 
course of study. Were we living in the scholastic age, and 
were I addressing you on a similar occasion, I would say 
according to the division of Arts, then obtaining. You hare 
completed the Trivium, and are now about to enter upon the 
Quadrivitim. 

How different the course upon which you may enter ! The 
Quadrivium! what did it comprise ? Arithmetic, Geometry, 
Music, and Astronomy, or rather Astrology ! The Trivium — 
what did it comprise ? Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric. — 
Scholasticism was indeed connected with Logic — and a huge 
system it was. Seven Arts studied in seven years made the 
master of Arts. We have other work to do now. The mystic 



8 

nnmber of years might be adequate to the mystic number of 
Arts. But we have no mystic number now by which to 
charm knowledge within our embrace. 

What is the work before you young gentlemen? Accord- 
ing to our multiplied sciences, and the vast enlargement 
of each one; — according to our multij)lied literature; 
and according to the demands made upon learning by the 
beautiful arts, by the useful arts, by commerce, by legislation, 
by all the offices of life in an age of high civilization, in a free 
country, and a country of boundless resources and energies; — 
your work is to make ripe scholars of yourselves. 

You will cordially acknowledge, 1 have no doubt, that 
hitherto your discipline has been elementary and preparatory. 
You do not claim to be finished scholars in the classics, or in 
the sciences. Is not this Commencement but a commence- 
ment of scholarship ? The work of maturing yourselves in the 
branches you have attempted, and of enlarging the bounda- 
ries of your knowledge, is now before you. A great work it 
is, but a work most necessary. Stop where you are, and these 
imperfect acquisitions will slip away from you. Your crude 
knowledge of the Latin and Greek will grow more crude; you 
will speak worse French and German; the propositions of 
Euclid will grow more dim, so that you will scarcely be able 
to revive the lines of the diagrams, and you will never again 
arrive at the quod erat demonstrandicm; Physics will be quite 
expurgated from your minds; Chemistry will vanish into thin 
air; Geology will become a fossil science; and Astronomy 
will go and dwell among the stars where your telescope will 
not find it. 

Three things will be required of you to enable you to ac- 
comj)lish your work — method, earnestness, and perseverance. 
Method, to lay out your work in due order, so that every 
day shall have its occupation, and every hour its task. Amid 
all the disturbances of other engagements, under all the bur- 
dens of life, method will still open a way before you, and sup- 
ply you with strength to go on. The man of method has al- 
ways something to do; he is shielded against the intrusions 



of frivolous company, and is saved from idle reveries, from ex- 
travagant plans and delusive hopes. He cannot become the 
victim of his own dreams, or of the schemes of others. 

We are ever prone to complain of the want of time, and the 
shortness of life. The man of method, bj saving all his time, 
finds that he has time enough. Tasks accomplished give 
strength and hope for new tasks. Knowledge steadily gained is 
turned into a fixed capital of knowledge, by which more knowl- 
edge is gained. It is wonderful how much a little daily careful 
reading of the classics — a little daily study of science, will ac- 
complish in the course of a year when it is carried on method- 
ically. Thus the grain of mustard seed will grow until it 
becomes a tree filled with the singing birds of heaven. Thus 
the leaven will spread through the whole lump until the whole 
be leavened, and knowledge will irradiate the mind. 

A methodical soul will be likely to be both earnest and 
persevering. But there are, sometimes, slow, driveliug, stupid 
methodical men. We speak therefore of earnestness and per- 
severance also. The first is an inward fire that always burns. 
It belongs to him who appreciates his work, and loves it 
The second is the indomitable will which no danger can in- 
timidate, no temptation draw aside, and no disapj^ointment 
depress. The earnest man hears the song of the lark in the 
morning — he is ready for his task. The persevering man 
is still at work when the night falls. 

These three qualities in unison will make the scholar- — 
will make anything that is great, good, and powerful. 

Young Gentlemen, you have two possessions which aro 
worth more than the might and treasures of kings. I mean 
youth and health. Eightly employ the one, and carefully 
preserve the other, and whatever is possible to man is possible 
to you. 

Youth ! glorious period ! when life is fresh, when the eya 
is bright, when the heart beats free, when hope still beckons 
you on to beautiful possibilities; when there is time yet to 
correct mistakes, to amend habits, to redeem losses, and to 



10 

lay the everlasting foundations of knowledge, wisdom and 
virtue : when the seeds of life — nay, of eternity — may be 
sown : when you may yet s ay, With God's help I will be a 
true man ! 

Health ! the conscious strength and elasticity of limb, the 
senses free and joyous in their play, the nerves strung like a 
musical instrument, and the very sense of existence an ex- 
quisite delight: when thought inflicts no pain, and labor can 
scarcely weary the powers which find their enjoyment in ac- 
tion: when appetite is unpampered, and sleep a dream of 
peace, or total forgetfulness: when the elements contain no 
disease, and all things around are friendly, and minister 
naught but good: when the soul and body are happy friends, 
and God's creation pleasant to live in. 

Youth and Health ! What more do you want than youth 
and health, to gain all knowledge, and to arrive ut the high- 
est and most beautiful culture ? Determine then to be edu- 
cated men, and be contented with no mean attainments. 
Youth and health can overcome all difficulties and accomplish 
all tasks. Why should not you take your place among the 
wisest and best of the race ? What has been done can be 
done. Why should not yoxb undertake to do what others be- 
fore you have done. You have youth and health; what then 
can hinder you ? 

A glorious gift is life, with all the possibilities it opens to 
you. Life is all yours yet, and you are strong to run the rac«. 
Lose not life; and therefore lose not time, for time is the stuff 
which life is made of Lose not time — lose any earthly pos- 
session or advantage, rather than time. Lose not time, and 
therefore save your youth. Save your health, and so preserve 
your time. 

Young Gentlemen ! Everything to you is full of hope and 
promise. See and value the advantages you possess. Believe 
that you can do much, and set out to do much. Eemember, 
you liave but one life to live, and therefore, now, at the be- 
ginning of life, determine to make the most of it. 



11 

What more can I say to you, except tliat best of all advice, 
to fear God, to trust in God, to love your fellow men, and 
always to do j our duty. 

Many pleasant hours have I spent with you, and I speak 
but the truth when I say, it is painful to part with you. But 
I will cherish the expectation of meeting with you sometimes, 
to renew the old fellowship of thought and spirit. We have 
lived together as friends — we part as friends — when we meet 
we shall meet as friends. May the good God bless you, and 
keej) you in his holy and paternal keeping. May you live 
honorable, holy, and haj^py lives. May you find your happi- 
ness in making others haj)py. And when life closes, may 
you find that you have made the most of life, and gained a 
preparation for the life that never eiids. 



/ ■' 



REJ 



/ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS j 



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019 877 029 2 ^t "m^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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HoUinger Co 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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Hollinger Corp. 
pH 8.5 



